


Hypnotic

by Kangofu_CB



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Date, Just Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tropes, abject filthy smut, no redeeming qualities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Heero goes on a blind date, one he hopes isn't an axe murderer, and it ends VERY well.





	Hypnotic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraxBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/gifts).



> A gift for ClaraxBarton who had a truly terrible day.
> 
> Also, inspired by a prompt that went around with Talliya, about a book about axe murders. As I recall, she mentioned something about a follow-up, once I wrote this, so I pass the hat to you, my dear!

_Magnetic everything about you_

_You really got me now_

_-_ Zella Day

* * *

 

“Please, _please_ tell me that’s not what you wore on your date.”

 

Heero had only just made it in the door of his shared apartment, his roommate sitting on the couch looking at him like he was a lost cause.  He looked down at himself.  The khakis and polo shirt had seemed reasonable when he’d pulled them off their hangers before dinner.

 

“It’s not what I wore on my date,” Heero answered, his tone dry and sarcastic.  

 

Duo rolled his eyes.  “Jesus fuck, Heero, you’re not going to get lucky wearing _that_ .  Your shirt is _purple_ for chrissake.”

 

Turning towards the kitchen in search of a drink, Heero ignored the jibe.  Getting lucky wasn’t what he was working towards, anyway.

 

“So how did it go?”  Duo persisted, leaning against the doorjamb, watching as Heero poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge.

 

“It was… fine.  He met all the criteria for a long term relationship, he has gainful, full time employment, acceptable hobbies, and-”

 

“Christ on a cracker, Yuy,”  Duo blew his breath out in an exasperated huff, ruffling his bangs.  “It was a date, not a job interview.”  He eyed Heero speculatively.  “Did you _like_ the guy?  Was he funny, or interesting, or hell, did he have a personality at all?  Were you interested in f-”

 

“Do not finish that sentence,” Heero warned, rinsing the glass and putting it in the dishwasher.  “It was a first date, I didn’t intend on taking him home.”

 

“Do you ever intend on taking them home?” Duo grumbled under his breath, and Heero pretended not to hear.  “You gotta give a little to get a little Heero.  Not every date is supposed to end in happily ever after.”

 

Which was rich, coming from Duo, who was in a committed, long-term relationship with his perfect life partner, who had met the tall, green-eyed man at one of those speed dating events, of all things, and who, if Duo was to be believed, had given him a life-altering blow job in the backseat of his car afterwards which had led to their domestic bliss.

 

Not that Heero was jealous.

 

He was just twenty-eight and ready, more than ready, for a meaningful relationship and time spent with someone more interested in his doctoral thesis than what was in his pants.

 

Not that he saw a lot of the latter, either.

 

Heero rarely made it beyond the first date, he was particular, and, if Duo was still to be believed - and the man _was_ scrupulously honest - a bit intimidating.  

 

He preferred to think of it as having standards.

 

Duo tossed a brown paper wrapped package at him, Heero catching it reflexively.  

 

“I gotcha a present, might help with the whole dating thing.”  He shuffled off towards his half of the apartment, now that Heero was home and alive and not murdered by his date.  

 

Not that the slim, perfectly coiffed man Heero had gone out with would have had a chance at injuring Heero in the slightest, considering his martial arts background and stiff paranoia.  The other man hadn’t even managed a goodnight kiss.

 

Heero ripped the paper off the nondescript package.

 

_How to Determine if Your Date is an Axe Murderer_

 

He only just restrained himself from throwing it down the hall towards Duo’s retreating figure.

 

The following morning, Heero had raised his eyebrow, holding the book up questioningly, and Duo had chuckled.

 

“Not every date is a list of pros and cons, a checklist of criteria to be met.  If the guy ain’t half-bad looking and he ain’t an axe murderer, why not take him for a roll in the hay, see if you’re _compatible_?”

 

Heero had thrown it at him that time, but the braided idiot had ducked, laughing even harder.

 

Three other dates and no call backs later Heero had resigned himself to reading it.  

 

  * Watch for the following:
    * A caucasian male in his twenties to thirties
    * Obsession with fire or matches
    * Cruelty to animals
    * History of bed-wetting
    * Abused as a child
    * Difficulty maintaining relationships



 

Sitting across from the friendly, blond haired man that Trowa - Duo’s slightly less idiotic boyfriend - had set him up with, Heero was hard pressed to say whether the tips applied.  Quatre was caucasian, or looked it, and clearly fell within the age range, but an expensive steak restaurant was not the place to determine most of the criteria.  

 

He did come from a solid middle-class background, or perhaps upper middle class, and the fact that he was on a blind date spoke heavily towards ‘difficulty maintaining relationships.’  However, Heero had difficulty maintaining relationships, and he wasn’t a serial killer.

 

Damn Duo for putting the idea in his head anyway.

 

  * Trust your intuition



 

Heero wasn’t sure he _had_ intuition.  He never thought any of the dates he went on were going badly, but there were seldom any second dates, and almost never any third dates, so what did he know.

 

Quatre smiled kindly at him over the rim of his wine glass, watching as Heero frowned at his menu and tried to decide whether or not the other man killed people as a hobby.

 

Duo had helped him get dressed for this date, and Heero had been momentarily grateful.  Had been even more grateful when Quatre - easily one of the best looking men he’d ever gone out with - had allowed his gaze to linger on Heero, taking in the fitted slacks, sweater, and leather jacket Duo had insisted he wear.

 

It had eased Heero’s frustration with the braided man, until he’d sat down at the table and been unable to drag his thoughts away from the stupid book.

 

  * Check him out officially: obtain his social security number and investigate him



 

Whilst Heero _certainly_ had the computer skills and wherewithal to investigate the other man’s personal life, he wasn’t sure that was _actually_ good advice for a first date.  Especially as none of the preceding criteria had been met.  Heero decided to put that one on the back burner for now, tentatively returning Quatre’s smile over the edges of the menu.

 

The other man was handsome and interesting and funny and had more than a passing interest in the biomedical engineering degree Heero had already obtained, and the technology involved in his thesis work which combined the relatively untried technology of 3D printing and the impracticalities of organ transplant.

 

Quatre’s father owned some sort of medical technology company, and he’d been utterly fascinated by Heero’s goal of printing an actual, functional organ, using polymers and the patient’s own replicated cells.

 

Heero didn’t want to ruin the experience by hacking the other man’s personal details so early in their…

 

Well, relationship was a strong word.

 

  * If you discover grounds for suspicion, break off the relationship immediately.



 

That seemed obvious and Heero had dismissed it out of hand.

 

As though he’d ever be caught pursuing a relationship that put his personal safety at risk.

 

  * Take steps to maintain your safety.



 

Another obvious choice, and Heero wondered at the idea that people didn’t do this in their day-to-day lives.

 

Quatre’s eyes sparkled at him from across the table, as he enthusiastically explained the latest series of tests he’d assisted with the in the lab of his father’s company, his own background in business and chemistry obviously colliding in the best ways, and Heero wondered that he’d ever pursued anyone else.

 

Two hours and more than a few glasses of wine later, with Quatre pressing him into the outside wall of the restaurant, just beyond the pool of light afforded by the streetlamp, hot mouth slanted over his and a hand sneaking just under the hem of his sweater, Heero privately felt Duo might have been right.

 

Not that he’d ever tell the braided man that.

 

Heero’s borrowed leather jacket rubbed against brick as Quatre propped his free hand against the wall to brace himself.

 

“You aren’t,” he panted, as that same clever mouth made its way to his neck, “an axe murderer, by any chance?”

 

There was an awkward pause and then Quatre chuckled against his throat, thumb stroking inside the waist of his slacks, sending shivers up Heero's spine.

 

“Not the last time I checked, no,” Quatre murmured, nipping at his earlobe.

 

“Good.”  Heero turned his head, searching out the other man’s mouth, hands tugging him closer until they were pressed, flush, against one another, feet tangled, breath mingling.

 

The cab ride to Quatre’s apartment was made in heated, anticipatory silence.

 

Quatre had suggested his place hesitantly, but Heero had agreed almost without thought, mostly relieved that he wasn’t going to be taking the other man back to _his_ apartment, where Duo would almost certainly be waiting up on the couch for details and customary teasing, regardless of, or perhaps galvanized by, Trowa’s presence.

 

His date had looked both surprised and pleased by his ready response, pulling him out of the alley and efficiently flagging down a cab, as though concerned Heero would change his mind.

 

In another life, he might have, but Duo’s words were ringing in his ears, and Quatre was both funny and interesting, and also imminently fuckable, and Heero hadn’t felt such a connection to another person…

 

Well, since ever, really, though he’d been drawn to Duo and into a torrid affair that had been destined not to last, if only because of the differences in their personalities.  

 

At least Duo had had the sense to realize it was a failed endeavour and break it off gently and reasonably, and Heero enjoyed having him as a friend and a roommate, when he wasn’t infuriated with him.

 

Quatre, though, was a different story.  Something about him was magnetic, made Heero feel grounded and relaxed, but simultaneously thrilled, like electricity under his skin.

 

Inside the apartment - more modest and sparse than Heero would have expected - he turned the blond man, backed him against the door to share more heated kisses and teasing caresses, even as the other man fumbled at the deadbolt.

 

There was a satisfying click of the lock sliding into place, and then Quatre was pushing them off of the door, maneuvering Heero blindly down the hallway presumably, hopefully, towards, a bedroom.

 

The jacket hit the floor somewhere in the vicinity of the hallway, shoes kicked off a bit further down, his sweater tugged over his head, and then Heero’s knees were hitting the edge of mattress and he was falling back, the air knocked out of his lungs either by the landing or the sight of Quatre leaning over him in the dark, eyes glittering hotly as he stripped his own sweater and shirt off.  The other man’s mouth descended on his own, fingers fumbling at his shirt buttons, then laughter as the edges parted to reveal a t-shirt underneath.  

 

“How many shirts are you wearing, Heero?” Quatre murmured against his lips, and Heero could feel the curve of a smile.

 

“That’s the last one, I swear,” he groaned, as nimble hands worked their way underneath, pushing the shirt up under his arms.  

 

Quatre flashed the grin at him, before ducking down and trailing his mouth across newly-exposed skin, a line of hot, nipping kisses blazing across his chest and stomach.

 

The clink of his belt and then cool air caressed his heated skin.  He felt, more than heard, the vibration of more laughter.

 

“Three shirts but no underwear?”

 

Heero opened his mouth to explain, only to choke on the words as his erection was engulfed in hot, wet heat.  He barely noticed his pants being dragged down and off, and then he ceased noticing anything except the excruciating pleasure of Quatre applying intense suction and the barest scrape of teeth.  His focus narrowed to the sensations between his legs as he buried his hands in blond strands.

 

Suddenly Duo’s blithe ‘life altering blowjob’ comments didn’t seem so absurd.

 

He was dangling on the edge of a precipice, lower lip caught between his teeth, using all of his evaporating self control to _not_ tug on the hair in his hands, when slick, slippery fingers teased against his anus.

 

His breath left him in an embarrassingly loud moan, and he shifted to prop his leg up on the edge of the mattress, providing better access.

 

Quatre retreated from his cock with a wet pop, Heero making a whining, protesting noise in response, though the other man kept his free hand in play with long, firm strokes.

 

“Is this ok?” The words took a few seconds to penetrate the mindless fog of arousal he was floating in, as Quatre nudged a fingertip inside of him.

 

“Ah! Yes, ok, yes!”

 

Apparently satisfied with his garbled response, Quatre ducked back down to his previously self-appointed task, once again engulfing him in searing heat and suction, stretching him with firm, persistent thrusts.

 

Heero was writhing on the bed, torn between arching into Quatre’s tortuous mouth and rocking back onto the fingers sliding inside of him when both of them disappeared, much to his disappointment.  He lifted his head in confusion, to find Quatre shucking his own pants and crawling over him, pale and lithe in the scant light of the room.

 

He swallowed hard, moving back further onto the bed to accommodate their tangle of legs and hips, even as Quatre leaned down and slanted their mouths together, sliding his tongue in a familiar, rhythmic manner.  Wrapping his arms around the other man, he pulled Quatre down, fully onto his body, crushing their hips together, rocking against him him in counterpoint to their mouths.

 

This time Quatre moaned, and Heero felt his mouth curl up in a satisfied smirk as Quatre broke away to rest his head on Heero’s shoulder, panting, even as he ground back down against him.

 

Crinkling foil caught his attention, and Heero turned his head to see Quatre's hand clenched around a recognizable packet.

 

Reaching up, he freed it from the other man’s grip and tore it open, reaching down to grasp Quatre’s cock, startling another gasping moan out of the man, and rolled it over the heated flesh.

 

“I take it this is still ok then,” Quatre grinned down at him, face flushed with arousal and amusement, and he leaned down for a hot, nipping kiss, before bracing himself above Heero with one arm.  With the other hand he reached down, tugging at Heero’s hips, positioning himself at the entrance to his body.

 

Heero wrapped a leg around Quatre’s waist in wordless acquiescence.

 

The first push of his cock into Heero’s body was an almost religious experience. Slow and smooth and steady and _full_ until Heero was gasping for breath and grasping at the smooth skin of Quatre’s back and shoulders.

 

Quatre waited a heartbeat, two, three for Heero to adjust and then a slow retreat and-

 

Snap of his hips.

 

“Ah!”

 

Again.

 

Then Quatre shifted, repositioned his knees and leaned down onto his elbows, bending to kiss Heero again, and the change in angle was near miraculous, leaving Heero a shuddering, shivering mess of sensation with every stroke.

 

Lips trailed over his neck and shoulders as Heero gasped and panted, astonishingly close to orgasm, feeling like his skin was stretched too tight and groping blindly for something to hold onto, something to help ground him as he was overwhelmed with sensation.  He tangled his fingers in the sheets, his free leg moving restlessly against the mattress, trying to find purchase.

 

“Are you close?” The words were breathless, murmured directly into his ear, desperate and hopeful, and Heero groaned again in response.

 

“Y- yes.”

 

“Good.”  A hand wormed its way between them, tugging at his swollen and sensitive flesh, and Heero exploded with a cry, bucking into the grip, his entire body taut and clenched as he was washed away in wanton pleasure.

 

He was still trying to remember how to breathe when Quatre cried out, his last few thrusts choppy and disjointed, gripping Heero’s hip hard enough to bruise, before nearly collapsing on top of him, gulping down air.

 

A few more minutes, when their heartbeats had stopped fluttering like birds’ wings in their chests, Quatre pulled out, slowly, Heero wincing at the slight burn and sense of emptiness, and rolled over to actually collapse beside him, still breathing hard.  After a few moments, he turned, dropping the used condom into a wastebasket by the nightstand.

 

Heero stretched, feeling the pleasant soreness and tingling of his toes and decided even if Quatre was a serial killer, it had probably been worth it.

 

He told the other man as much.

 

Snorting, Quatre turned to look at him in the dark.  “What _is_ your obsession with serial killers?”

 

Heero shook his head and opened his mouth to explain.  Closed it again.  Collected his thoughts.  “My roommate,” he shrugged.

 

“Your roommate is a serial killer?”

 

Heero laughed.  “No he just… has a strange sense of humor?  He gave me this book…” Heero trailed off, unable to explain.  “You just have to know Duo, I guess.”

 

Quatre huffed a laugh of his own.  “Trowa’s Duo?  I’ve… heard stories.”

 

Heero had forgotten that was how they’d been set up.

 

Of course, five minutes ago Heero’d forgotten his own name, so that seemed reasonable.

 

He rolled over, propping himself above the other man, and leaned down for a leisurely kiss.

 

Heard his phone going off incessantly in the pocket of his discarded slacks.

 

With a sigh, he leaned over the edge of the bed to dig the device out of his tangled clothing.  Found twenty seven text messages from Duo, each one increasingly more outrageous than the next, the last few pictures of tips from the serial killer book, including how to get out of restraints.

 

Heero rolled his eyes, Quatre peeking over his shoulder, chest shaking with laughter.

 

_Go away.  I’m not being murdered, and you’re ruining the mood._

 

_Bow chica wow wow_

 

_I’m going to kill you_

 

_… tomorrow._

 

Heero turned the phone off, ignoring the final beep of an incoming message, and tossed it back down onto the floor.

 

He turned back to Quatre, who was reclining against the pillows propped against the headboard, fisting a renewed erection, smirking at him.

 

“Would you like a hand?”

 

Heero reached to replace Quatre’s grip with his own.

 

Arching into the touch, Quatre’s smirk widened, even as his eyes darkened with lust and goosebumps pebbled his skin.  

 

“As long as _you_ aren’t an axe murderer.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to ChronicWhimsy for beta reading this on, well, a whim. You are a WONDERFUL friend.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How to Love an Axe Murderer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263703) by [Talliya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talliya/pseuds/Talliya)




End file.
